


Aftermath

by kryptidkat



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst and Humor, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fun is even more of a jerk than usual, Gen, Jet is pretty shaken up, Kobra is an anxious clingy lil baby, Mild Language, Post-SING, everybody lives shut up it's canon, feat. poetry by my son Cherri, in which Party is a narcissistic emo who needs to get it together but we all love him anyway, jk it’s literally one (1) swear and it’s not even a Bad one, language tw, the POV is all over the place sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 07:39:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12907281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kryptidkat/pseuds/kryptidkat
Summary: After the escape they holed up in the bunker for a week. Licking their wounds. Barely able to believe they made it out. When they’re finally forced back into the desert sunlight, none of them are the same. Will another rescue mission help the Four regain the spirit they lost? Or will it just reveal how shattered they've become?The aftermath of Sing.





	1. The Bunker

_…and as for all these lights, who knows what they really are anymore. Schrodinger’s stars, if you will. If we can’t tell which are real and which are satellites, does it matter? We may as well ask if the moon exists when no one’s looking at her…_

Jet left the hatch open so Cherri’s voice crackling over the radio filtered through. It was soft, meditative, slightly husky from talking through the night. Jet pulled his jacket tighter and leaned back against the scraggly tree that hid the bunker entrance, breathing in the last of the dawn chill. The empty desert stretched out in every direction, tinged pink.

_…maybe they flicker in and out of existence from night to day, the way your freckles come and go with the summer. On those hottest, longest days you can trace those constellations on your own skin and remember the kinder celestial bodies that seem so improbable when the radiation is trying to bleach your bones…_

The hatch creaked.

A pair of hazel eyes peeked out at Jet. “I couldn’t find you! I woke up and you were gone.”

“Sorry. Just needed some air.” Jet patted the dirt at his side and the Girl curled up next to him. Together they watched the last of the stars fade out as the sky paled.

_And if it turns out they were satellites all along…well, I don’t think that would make those nights we spent stargazing any less real. So whether anyone up there is recording or not, why don’t those of us who are left make it worth watching. To all the ghosted souls out there, I…I hope you find your way home._

For a long moment there was nothing but static. Then the voice returned with a forced brightness.

 _But too much of that talk will get a killjoy dusted quicker than you can slide down a sand dune. Stay tuned to pump some venom in those veins, defy extermination, the sound of regulation obliteration, a demolition derby in the pigsty before the gasoline runs dry – here’s Mad Gear and Missile Kid’s_ “ _If the Jetset Life Didn’t Kill You, Maybe This Will!””_

Jet cringed a little as the radio let out a dissonant screech.

The Girl wrinkled her nose. “Cherri’s been sounding awful blue lately. I miss him.”

 “Me too, kiddo.”

The Girl scooted closer. “Jet?”

“Hm.”

“When can we go back to the diner?”

A muffled clattering started inside. Someone else was up. Jet rubbed his eyepatch the way he’d started doing when he was worried or thinking.  “Don’t know,” he said at last.

The clatter inside turned into a crash. “Shi – ah, shoot! That sounds like Ghoul.” Jet stood hastily. “We’d better stop him before he tears the whole place apart.”

They ducked inside. The bunker was one of their best kept secrets, but they’d never had to actually use it as a bolt hole before now. Party and Kobra were huddled in one corner. Kobra was still awake. Jet frowned; he hadn’t seen him properly sleep since they arrived. Party had dropped off on his brother’s shoulder that night and Kobra hadn’t move a muscle since. Now he caught Jet’s eye and made a furious, urgent little jerk with his head toward the source of the commotion.

The noise was coming from across the room, where Ghoul had torn a metal side panel off the wall and was ripping out handfuls of old wires.

“What are you _doing_?” Jet demanded over the racket.

“Need ‘em for my project!” Ghoul’s determined cheerfulness was especially jarring this hour of the morning.

“Your “project” is gonna – ”

A shower of sparks crackled out of the wall with a metallic buzz. Ghoul yelped and jumped back. The lone lightbulb hanging from the ceiling flickered wildly. Party’s eyes snapped open. Kobra’s arm shot out protectively to restrain him in case he panicked.

Ghoul slammed a switch and the sparks died.

Jet appealed to the ceiling. “…is gonna get you electrocuted.”

Ghoul studied the smoking mass of wires. “Oops.”

Party looked down at the hand on his arm and saw it was Kobra’s. “Gerroff.” He jerked away with unnecessary force and clambered to his feet. “Any news?”

“Just poetry,” the Girl told him. “G’morning.”

“Mmf,” went Party, unconvinced.

“Can I have this?” Ghoul held up the blaring radio.

 “No!” said Jet. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I need the battery!”

“Don’t touch my music!” Party snarled, lunging for it. Kobra scrambled up and grabbed his shoulder to keep him from attacking Ghoul.

Jet hauled Ghoul back by the jacket collar and gave him a shake. “A battery? You told me it _wasn’t_ a bomb! It’s a bomb, isn’t it! What did I tell you about building bombs _inside_ the bunker? Are you out of your, your _mudfracking_ mind!?”

“Lemme down!” Ghoul kicked his dangling feet at Jet’s shins. Party made a snatch at the radio, but Ghoul yanked it away, accidentally smacking Kobra in the face. Kobra reflexively hauled back to take a swing at him.

“I’M HUNGRY!”

The four froze at the Girl’s bellow. Kobra lowered his fist. Jet guiltily set Ghoul back on the floor. Party’s gaze flickered over to the haphazard piles and bare shelves.

The Girl brandished two cans of Power Pup at him. “This is all that’s left. I checked. Which means,” she continued hopefully, “supply run?”

Uneasy silence met her proposal.

“Can we risk it?” Party said finally.

“No choice,” Kobra pointed out.

 “There’ll be stuff at the diner,” Jet said, turning to take his gun from its charger. “It’s not far.”

“And I’m going!” The Girl popped up in his blind spot.

Jet started violently and almost pointed his gun at her. “Don’t _do_ that!” It came out more angrily than he meant. He quickly holstered the weapon.

She ducked over to his good side. “Sorry.”

He let out a breath. “It’s okay.” They were all on edge today. It was past time to get out of this hole.

“But I am coming.”

“All right.” Jet ruffled her curls. “Get your jacket and let’s – ”

“No!”

All eyes went to Ghoul.

He stared them down. “She stays.”

“I won’t! I wanna see Cherri!”

Ghoul turned on her. “It’s too dangerous!”

“Ghoul.” Jet’s carefully quiet tone warned him to lower his voice before he started scaring the Girl.  “It’s as safe as it’s going to get. We haven’t seen a soul since we got here.”

“If you leave me, I’ll stand outside and scream ‘til they do come, so there,” the Girl added.

“Not if I lock you in.”

“Ghoul!” Jet snapped.

Ghoul slammed the radio back on the shelf. “Fine. Then let’s move before it gets hotter.” He went outside to move the tarp and shrubbery they had used to conceal the trans am.

Well, at least they had recovered enough to start bickering again.

The others started strapping on their weapons. Jet found the car keys and noticed Party was just standing there, one hand straying to tug his bandana higher up his throat.

“Party? You coming?”

Party looked at him, blank.

Jet sighed and tossed Kobra the keys instead. “You drive then.”

Kobra hesitated, conflict flickering over his face as he glanced at Party.

Party glared back at him. “What?”

 Kobra wordlessly handed the keys back to Jet.

“Oh for Destroya’s sake, Kobra.” Jet gave up on him and appealed to Party again. “Party, you can’t stay here forever.”

Party threw his hands up. “Okay! I’m driving!” He stormed outside.

Ghoul came back in to grab his frankenstein mask. “You never ask _me_ to drive,” he grumbled as he jammed it onto the back of his head.

Jet yanked it down over his eyes. “You can’t reach the pedals!”


	2. Reunion

Once he pulled onto the highway with the familiar wheel of the trans am back in his hands and the wind tearing at his messy red hair, Party seemed more like his usual self, but he played the stereo even louder than usual and smacked anyone who tried to turn it down. The others didn’t really mind. The noise helped drown out everything else.

The drive was eerily uneventful. Half an hour or so later they rolled up to the colorfully graffitied diner. The junkyard out back was a jungle of auto parts, broken sound systems, and other miscellaneous treasures scavenged over the years.

The four piled out of the car.  A lean, slightly scruffy guy with a pleasant face and a blue streak in his soft brown hair was coming around the side of the building, hauling an armload of old equipment.

 “Hey guys.” He gave them a casual nod and disappeared inside. A few seconds later, they heard a crash.

He reappeared in the doorway empty-handed, bug-eyed. “You’re dead! I’m gonna kill you!” The usually gentle soul tackled them without warning, punching wildly. Too startled to react, they went down in a heap. The Girl scrambled onto the spider-painted hood to watch the show and giggled at the impressive cloud of dirt they generated.

“Cherri, what the – ”

 “Ow! Not the hair!”

 “Uncle! Uncle!”

“Whatever it was, I didn’t do it!”

Ghoul came skidding out of the pile, coughing. He glared at the Girl, who didn’t even try to stifle her laughter. “Shuddup.”

When the dust cleared, Kobra was sprawled in the dirt, one-shoed and comically bewildered. He sat up and adjusted his skewed sunglasses dazedly. Cherri was sitting on Party’s chest with Kobra’s boot in one hand and a fistful of Jet’s hair in the other. He released Jet, who scowled and rubbed his scalp.

“Scum. Bags.” Cherri gave Party a final cuff with the boot before throwing it at Kobra’s head. He missed. “I should have been there. I thought you were dead.”

Party wheezed painfully. “Just because we go radio silent for a week doesn’t mean we’re _dead_ , moron.”

“Well, the footage sure made it look that way!”

Party shoved him off. “What’re you talking about?”

Cherri huffed his blue streak of hair out of his eyes. “I officially hate all of you,” he announced. The Girl gave him a little wave from the hood. He saw her and his face softened with relief. “Except this one. C’mere, you.”

She slid down and ran into his scarred arms.

“ _She_ gets hugs,” Kobra muttered, pouring sand out of his shoe.

“Glad you’re okay, sweetheart.” Cherri pulled the Girl in tight and kissed the top of her curly head.  “Did you hear my elegy the other day, at least?” he asked them hopefully over her shoulder.

“Must’ve missed it, sorry.” Party winced as he got to his feet. “Didn’t get the radio working for a couple days.”

“Too bad. It was a good one.”

“Save it for next time,” Kobra advised.

Cherri looked to Jet. “What about Doc and the others?”

 “We split up,” Jet said. “Last we saw they were leading a bunch of dracs on a wild jackrabbit chase to keep them off us. They didn’t contact you?”

Cherri shook his head. He noticed the Girl’s worried expression and gave her another squeeze. “I’m sure they’re fine. What I wanna know is, how in –”

Ghoul shaded his eyes with his hand and squinted at the horizon. “Speak of the devil.”

The Girl’s face lit up. “They’re here!”

They crowded around the van as it pulled up. DJ Hot Chimp honked the horn obnoxiously. Cherri and Jet rushed to help Dr. Death Defying out.  Show Pony was everywhere, giving high fives, hip bumps, and smooches to anyone who would let him. The Girl disappeared entirely in the chaos and emerged several minutes later, looking slightly worse for wear from all the hugs and hair-ruffling.

“You look pretty good for being dead, boys!”

 “Shiver me timbers! Loving the eyepatch look, cap’n! Yo ho ho and a bottle of – ”

“Knock it off!”

“Run off all our listeners with your music taste yet, Soda Pop?”

“Har har. Nice to see you too.”

 “Ignore him, Cherri. Thanks for babysitting the station.”

 “Ghoul, my favorite pyromaniac! Hey, you owe me 20 carbons!”

“I’m dead, I don’t owe you nothin’!”

 “What took so long, Dr. D?”

“Been driving back and forth on the outskirts of Five mostly, looking for a way through that wasn’t crawling with dracs. Finally lost the last of them this morning.”

 “Hey Chimp, we got enough gas left to get to the bar?”

“Think so! Anybody else coming? No? Well, we’ve got some new escapades to exaggerate. See ya later, exterminators.”

Show Pony and Hot Chimp rattled off in the van again.

“A week,” said Dr. D dryly. “I had to put up with that for a _week_.”

Cherri watched them go with a crease in his forehead. “I didn’t get to show them the video.”

“Cherri. What. Video.” Party demanded.

Cherri sobered. “You better come see.”


	3. The Footage

They crowded uneasily into the diner. Cherri went over to the station equipment and started hitting buttons.

“Some hackrat intercepted a city transmission. It’s all over the zones. The one I got my hands on doesn’t have audio, but yeah.” Cherri hesitated. “Should the Girl…?”

“She was there, Cherri,” Party reminded him.

Cherri glanced at him. “Doesn’t make it easier to watch.”

His expression made Party wonder how the week must have been like for him. Waiting by the radio day and night for news that never came. The self-inflicted torture of watching whatever was on that tape, replaying it over and over. How many times had he rewound it, scouring every frame for any sign that nothing would have ended differently if he had been with them? For any sign that the Girl was safe?

He decided not to ask. He didn’t want to know.

 “Just play the stupid video,” the Girl told Cherri, annoyed at being referred to as if she weren’t in the room.

The tape finished rewinding with a loud snap. Cherri flipped on a small screen.

The eerie Better Living Industries smile logo flashed. _KILLJOY TERRORISTS “FABULOUS FOUR” VANQUISHED IN DRAC FACILITY BOMBING_ read the headline. Black smoke poured from the charred skeleton of a skyscraper, surrounded by puddles of fire and debris.

(Party high-fived Ghoul with grim satisfaction.)

The video cut to earlier security footage. The four strode vengefully through the rain toward the entrance of the looming building, coolly gunning down the guards at the door.

A different angle, a pristine blue-lit corridor. Fun Ghoul ran into view and tossed a deceptively small device down the hall. The fresh scar on the side of his mouth gave him a reckless half-smile. He noticed the camera and snapped off a middle-finger salute before ducking back out of sight.

Another timejump. Dracs poured into the lobby from behind them as they raced for the door. The room went white with raygun flares.

The Girl grabbed Jet’s hand. She hadn’t seen any of this. She had shut her eyes tight, hands clapped over her ears, paralyzed, and there nothing but darkness and muffled laserfire, someone screaming – was it her? – and then…

Jet winced as the Girl squeezed his hand even tighter.

Party’s face was blank as he watched himself shoot a drac from behind, its mask ripping off in his hand as the body slumped to the floor. The tension in the diner grew almost unbearable when the gun slipped from Party’s hand. Korse slammed him against the wall.

Kobra jumped up, voice on the edge of panic. “Turn it off!”

Dr. D quickly shut off the recording. They stood in shaken silence.

Kobra tried to quietly steady his breathing. He fought the urge to pull Party over to him and wrap him up in his arms and never let him go again.

It had been just like the dreams. One second he was back to back with his brother; the next, Party was across the room, Korse’s gun at his throat. Kobra fought the sudden nightmarish feeling of slow motion, but he already knew he was too late. He always was. Stomach twisting, blood roaring in his ears, he ran anyway, and when the gun flared –

“…stun setting,” Cherri was saying. “Why not just kill you?”

“Oh, live terrorists are _so_ much more fun,” Ghoul said flatly. “Parade ‘em through the streets. Brainwash ‘em. Public execution. The possibilities are endless.”

He had set the bomb timer with steady fingers. Ten minutes. They didn’t make it out, neither would Bl/Ind. Nine minutes. In the firefight, his mental countdown ticked thunderously in his head as he slammed the doors shut behind Jet and the Girl to face the onslaught alone. Eight minutes. If you’re on a suicide mission, gotta do it right.

So much for meeting death head-on. Ghoul swiped Dr. D’s flask.

Dr. D grabbed it back before he could drain it. “I’m surprised you woke up in time to get out before that thing went off.”

“Jet did. Carried the rest of us to the car zonked out like a bunch of babies,” Party said lightly, but his laugh was forced.

Jet shook his head. The wailing alarms were what saved them. Head ringing with them, he’d rolled off the hood of the trans am, chest throbbing, the taste of metal in his mouth. If he was alive, then maybe…He lurched back inside the lobby, stumbling over the scattered bodies, sheer adrenaline giving him the strength to haul Ghoul and Kobra into the backseat and run back desperately for Party, no time to check if any of them were even breathing, slamming the gas pedal down just as the building erupted, debris falling all around the car, smoke ballooning overhead…

“It was chaos,” was all he said. “They won’t have any idea we weren’t in still there unless they go through the rubble piece by piece.”

“But how did you end up with the Girl? She was with –”

The speaker Cherri was leaning on suddenly crackled to life. Cherri started, then frowned and leaned over the soundboard. “Weird. We’re getting a distress call in from…”

He twisted dials trying to get a clearer signal. Fragments of a garbled voice broke through the white noise. They heard screams and laserfire in the background. “Dracs – too many of – otel in zone fi – can’t hold them off for – two of us got h – if anyone can he – ”

The line went dead.

Dr D swore. “The patrol we dodged this morning must’ve got them. Move it, boys. We’re close to that old motel as anyone.”

Cherri started flipping open dispatch channels. “Lemme try and get a med gang to follow us out. Sounds like they’ll need more than our shoddy first aid.”

The others looked to Party. He hadn’t moved.

“Doc…” he began.

Dr. D abruptly swiveled his chair at him. “Don’t ‘Doc’ me,” he told Party, low and dangerous.  “Those pups could still have a fighting chance and you, son, are gonna give it to them. Got a problem with that, you take it up with me. _After_ you get back. Now haul. Ass.”

For two seconds Party stared at him like he’d been slapped.

Then he jerked into action. The rest of them followed suit, automatically swapping out the batteries in their guns, pulling on their masks.

 “Think I left some toys out here.” Ghoul disappeared out the back door.

“There’s med joys in the vicinity, but they have a flat,” Cherri reported.

“Got a tire somewhere in all that trash?” said Dr. D. “Run it to ‘em on your bike.”

A flash of relief crossed Cherri’s face. “Roger that. Catch up with you guys.” He ran out to the junkyard, almost colliding with Ghoul, who was hauling a massive satchel full of grenades.

The four piled out to the car. The Girl, hoping to get caught up in the commotion and ride along, followed close behind.

Ghoul spun around at the door, stopping her in her tracks. “You. Stay.”

Something in his tone made her drop back, her protest catching in her throat.

He left.

She listened to the car screech away.

Dr. D rolled up behind her. “Don’t worry about ‘em, sunbeam.”

“I’m not,” she retorted. “I don’t mind them going. I mind them going without me.”

“They’ll be back before you can shine your boots.”

The Girl kept staring out the doorway. “I think Ghoul’s mad at me,” she said.

Oh boy. Dr D rubbed his forehead. “I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He chose his words carefully. “Losing you like that scared them, that’s all. Ghoul just wants you safe. They all do. You understand?”

The Girl made a face. “Yeah. Seems to mean I’ll never get to do anything fun again.”

 Dr. D laughed. “They’ll come around. Now get on over here and you can help me pick out the afternoon tunes.”


	4. The Old Motel

They heard the laserfire before they saw it. The trans am sped around the bend into a wide, sandstrewn parking lot. Party made out three or four kids inside the collapsed motel ruins, firing still-unpainted guns from the broken windows to keep the advancing drac unit at bay.

“City brats!” he yelled to the others. “Don’t know how they managed to get this far out in the zones with aim that bad. Let’s show ‘em how it’s done!” He jerked the wheel.

Ghoul and Kobra stood through the open roof. Jet took aim through the side window. The dracs heard the roar of the engine, turned to face the new threat, and were met with a hail of lasers. Only two fell.

Kobra banged on the roof to get his brother’s attention. “Quit swerving!” he yelled. “We’re gonna hit the pups!”

Party wheeled the car around and hit the brakes behind the toppled MOTEL sign. They tumbled out, weapons up.

Jet risked a glimpse though the sign’s O. The dracs were splitting up; some kept up the assault on the motel entrance and several were headed their way. “What we need is a – ”

“DIVERSION!”

“Fun! No!”

Too late. Ghoul bolted off into the open, hollering obscenities. Jet sighed and let him go, but was a little surprised Party didn’t join him.

Party pointed at the two empty patrol cars. “There’s our cover.”

Kobra’s eyes lit up as he saw the white motorcycle next to them. “Bike.”

“They’re distracted! We’re right behind you!” Party gave him a shove.

Kobra dashed toward the vehicles. Party was about to follow when a laserbolt zinged past his ear. Jet pulled him to the ground. They scrambled around to the other side of the sign, dodging more blasts.

Party’s breathing was ragged. “Where’d it come from? There’s more of them!”

Jet saw a flash of movement at the corner of the motel. He fired a few shots, but the drac ducked behind the building again. “Just one.” Something nagged at the back of his mind, but he dismissed the foreboding. “He can pick us off from back there unless we take him. Let's go!”

They charged.


	5. Kobra Kid

Kobra was halfway across the parking lot when he tripped on a fallen Handicapped Parking sign and went sprawling.

He coughed sand, and spotted something red a few yards away. His gun.

No one had noticed him. The only danger he was in was from the pups’ stray fire streaking overhead. Ghoul was keeping the dracs occupied, zigzagging recklessly, hurling grenades and insults. Kobra grinned at a particularly creative one. Good thing the Girl wasn’t here. He combat crawled toward his gun, made a grab for it, and almost grabbed a pair of gleaming black shoes instead.

A scowling rubber mask loomed over him.

“Uh…afternoon?”

The drac took aim.

Kobra threw himself to one side. A laserbolt seared a molten hole in the asphalt.

He scrambled backwards, barreling into another drac that appeared behind him. They both toppled over. Kobra yelped. Where had they come from? “Ladies, ladies, please, no need to fight over me, there’s plenty to go arou –”

Hands locked around his throat from behind. And the drac with the gun was moving in, aim wavering, trying to figure out how to shoot him without hitting its companion.

“Dest _roy_ a,” Kobra wheezed, clawing at the arm around his neck. “You guys sure – have a – funny idea of – what constitutes a – good – time.” Black dots swam in his vision. He should have brought his power glove. His flailing hand closed on something metal – the sign he’d tripped on. He swung it clumsily, managing to bash the first drac’s weapon away and land a glancing blow on the one beneath him. It snarled and lost its grip.

Kobra threw the sign aside and dived between the first drac’s legs for the gun, just as the second made a flying leap for him. The two dracs collided.

“Ha! Suckas.” Kobra grabbed the white gun. “Ya wanna piece of this? Come and get it.” He fired.

The gun spat sparks and started smoking. Wasn’t that just typical.

The dracs untangled themselves, brushing the dust from their uniforms. Then, businesslike, they turned to stride toward him in unison.

Shiny.

“Whoa, okay, time out, good game.” Kobra retreated hastily. He backed right into the motorcycle and overbalanced, toppling head over heels. “Oh, sonofa – ”

The dracs rushed him. Kobra tried to untangle his limbs as the pair hauled him upright. A fist slammed into his jaw. Ow. Another blow to the gut doubled him over. He scanned the parking lot wildly for backup, blinking hard. Dracs everywhere. A streak of green and fire that must be Ghoul.

A chill ran through him. He couldn’t breathe.

Where was Jet? Where was _Party?_

The world narrowed into razor sharp focus. His muscle memory finally kicked into gear. Mind wiped blank except for a single objective.

_Find him._

Kobra spat blood. “Playtime’s over.”

The first drac reeled back from a roundhouse kick to the face. Kobra threw himself into a crouch and sent the other hurtling over his shoulder and slamming into the concrete.

The first drac came at him again. A swift blow to the knee and chop to the neck took it down.

Kobra hauled the bike upright and swung astride. It roared to life.

Tires squealing, he skidded into a tight turn, leaning down and snatching up his gun. He opened the throttle and sped across the lot, cursing himself for letting his brother out of his sight again.


	6. Jet Star and Party Poison

Jet and Party dashed around the side of the motel. Outnumbered, the single drac they were chasing turned on its heel and made a run for it. Party took aim and dropped it easily.

A half dozen other dracs looked up from trying to clear a way through the back entrance.

Everyone froze.

Jet mentally kicked himself. That’s what had bothered him - there weren’t enough dracs out front to fill the vehicles they’d seen.

He didn’t stop to think. “Party, if they get in, those kids are ghosted!” He ran toward them.

Startled, the unit scrambled for their weapons.

Jet fired wildly into the crowd, but shooting one-eyed was throwing him off. He caught himself shaking his head as if to clear his vision and realized Party wasn’t covering his blind side. He glanced over his shoulder and stopped cold.

Party was down.

“Not again,” he growled, and doubled back for the second time that week. He felt a ray grazed his sleeve as he hauled Party up bodily and dragged him behind a pile of rubble, hunching down to avoid the barrage whizzing overhead. He scanned him frantically for injuries. “You hit?”

Party’s breathing came in shallow gasps. “He – was just – a kid.”

“What’re you – ?” Laserbeams ricocheted off their cover. He tried to shove Party’s gun back into his hands. “They’re coming!”

 “I pulled off his mask. I saw him.” He was shivering violently.

Jet shook his shoulder roughly. “We’re under fire!”

Party stared past him with glassy eyes. “He was just a kid,” he repeated.


	7. Fun Ghoul

This would be a lot more fun with his bazooka.

“Eat this, you – ” Ghoul threw his grenade at the charging dracs at the last second. It detonated in their leader’s face, the blast drowning out the rest of his sentence. One down.

He plunged his hands into his pockets for more and the others fell over themselves to scatter in all directions. “Cowards!” he shrieked.

The kids in the windows went slack-jawed, weapons forgotten.

Ghoul winked at them. “Watch and learn, city brats.”

The dracs had fanned out and taken cover. They opened fire. Ghoul didn’t bother dodging. He yanked out his gun and gave it right back.

“Wow, great aim!” he yelled at the top of his lungs as the hot lasers whizzed around him. “Did your moms teach you?”

His ears were ringing from the explosion, drowning out any thoughts of caution. He charged a cluster of three of them, lobbing another bomb at a drac on his left as he went. Saw it disappear in a fiery ball of smoke in the corner of his eye.

Two down. Not nearly enough left to go.

His next shot went through the eye of one of the dracs in front of him. Three down. The other two in the group made a run for it across the lot.

A laserbolt grazed his leg. He stumbled, laughing maniacally, and whirled to face the particularly brave drac coming up behind him. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

The drac snarled as Ghoul shot the gun out of its hand. A well-aimed kick to the groin sent the drac sprawling.

“Think half a dozen of you clowns can get the best of me?” Ghoul kicked it savagely in the ribs. “Think you can steal our baby girl and get away with it?” Another kick. “Think I won’t track down every. Last. One of you and send you where you belong?”

The drac went limp. Ghoul knelt down and delicately placed a grenade on its chest. He gave the drac a night-night pat. “Think again.”

Vision tinged red, Ghoul took off towards the final two dracs. A few seconds later the blast went off behind him. Four down.


	8. Rescue

“Get up!” Jet pounded Party’s shoulder, but it was like he couldn’t hear him. “I swear to – ”

_Party!_

Kobra’s distant panicked voice and the faint roar of a motorcycle broke through the gunfire.

Party started up at the sound, pupils huge. He mouthed a name Jet didn’t know.

Jet switched tactics. “Yeah, your brother! Come on!” He looked around the edge. The dracs were almost on top of them now, firing steadily as they approached their cover in a tight formation. Jet tried to get off a shot, but he had to duck back behind the rubble. “Okay, we’re trapped.”

Party still looked lost and shaky, but he gripped his gun. “Too bad.”

He made as if to rush them. Jet’s hand shot out for him. “Party, don’t – ”

They were nearly deafened by a revving engine. Jet yanked Party out of the way as Kobra came swerving around the corner plowed straight into the unit. Dracs went flying. He lost control of the bike as it bumped over the last one and went skidding. He rolled off.

Jet and Party stood dazedly.

“That works too,” said Jet.

Kobra abandoned the fallen motorcycle and came running over. He wasn’t too badly scraped up from the skid, but he was rubbing his jaw where a nice bruise was coloring up. “You alright?”

“Shiny,” Party said, too quickly. He straightened his yellow mask. “Thanks.”

A blast went off. Jet slapped his forehead. “Ghoul! He’s still out front, go, go!”

They ran back around, but there was no one left to fight. The drac cars were on fire. White-uniformed bodies littered the parking lot. Smoke was everywhere. Ghoul, wild-eyed, mask askew, was stomping one of the bodies repeatedly into the concrete, cursing methodically through gritted teeth.

“Fun! Fun, stop, he’s dead!” Party looked sick.

Ghoul gave it a final kick and subsided, panting.

“Look alive!” Jet jerked his gun up.

One last drac was speeding away on the motorcycle. Ghoul swiftly yanked the pin out of his last grenade and hurled it. The drac went up in a ball of flame. The bike sped on until it rammed into a cactus, then exploded.

“Aw.” Kobra’s face fell. “I wanted that.”

A wheel rolled by.

“Next time, baby bro.” Party patted his shoulder.

Ghoul spat at the body at his feet and walked over to join the others. He grinned. “Well, that was cathartic.”

 “Med’s here,” Kobra observed.

They watched the truck rattle up to the motel. Three joys jumped out and two of the pups ran to meet them.

“They’ll be alright.” Ghoul dismissed them.

Jet was examining the charred tear in his sleeve. He rounded on Party abruptly. “What was that back there, man!”

Party exploded. “You’re the one who ran straight into a whole unit of them!”

“You can’t just – ”

“Get off my back.” Party cut him off, suddenly conscious of Ghoul and Kobra’s stares.

“You’ve been busy.” They were interrupted by Cherri driving up on his bike. He surveyed the carnage, impressed.

“Thanks for your help, man,” Kobra said.

Cherri wouldn’t look at him. “Well. Anytime.” They all knew he was grateful to have had a good reason to steer clear of the violence. And not because he was a coward.

“Think I’ve had enough for the day.” Jet headed toward the trans am. “Let’s get outta here.”

Cherri jerked his head toward the motel where the injured kids were getting patched up. “Hey, stick around. Bet they want to thank you.”

“No thanks,” Party said wearily. “We ain’t heroes.” He followed Jet.

Cherri scoffed. “Says the joys who aced _two_ rescue missions now in the past week.”

 “Just here to beat up pigs,” Ghoul told him, lighting up a post-clap cigarette. “No idea what you’re talking about.”


	9. Living With Ghosts

Back at the diner, Party headed inside. The water didn’t always work and when it did it usually ran gross colors, but it was wet. Show Pony and Hot Chimp were back from the bar, only slightly tipsy, and were attempting to teach the Girl rollerskating tricks in the front yard while Ghoul and Jet yelled unhelpful advice from the sidelines.

“Those new drac bikes, I think they’re powered on some kind of rechargeable battery, not gasoline,” Kobra was saying. He and Cherri were in the junkyard, geeking out over motorcycles. Party glimpsed him through the open back door waving his hands around excitedly. “When I get one, I think I can modify this to use the same thing if we get a…”

Party wished it didn’t bother him, but it did. How they all could resume life so easily. Did they even realize what they went through? What could have happened? He understood, though. It was easier to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. To keep yourself busy. To fill your head with anything, with everything.

But you could only turn the music up so loud.

Party remembered what he came in to do and ran himself some water. It didn’t look too rusty today. He drained the glass and went to the front doorway to watch the Girl wobble on her skates, trying to imitate Show Pony’s moves.

Dr. D put down a stack of albums and joined him. “That one’ll be dangerous someday.”

“She already is,” said Party.

“I tried to talk to her this afternoon. Make sure she was okay. And you know what?” Dr. D chuckled incredulously. “She didn’t get it. The bad guys took her, the good guys took her back. That’s just how it goes.”

“I’m not surprised.” The ghost of a fond smile flickered across Party’s face.

“Well, killjoys never die,” said Dr. D wryly.

No. Not to her. Not yet.

“She didn’t see it all, either,” Party said.

Neither had he, he realized. He bit his lip, trying not to imagine how it must have happened. Don’t think about the life burning out of your brother’s eyes. Don’t think about Ghoul’s defiant last stand, how many hits he must have taken before they got him to stay down. Don’t think about Jet, so close to freedom, only to be the last of the Girl’s heroes to abandon her.

For Party, Korse's cold, skull-like smile wasn't the last thing he remembered. It was Kobra’s scream. Then – jerking awake in the passenger seat, head pounding, blind in the dark, alone, panicking, becoming aware of Jet beating him off and trying to keep the car from swerving as Party flailed and cursed at him - “Party! Stop! They’re all here! She got away! They’re all here!” Wrenching around to the backseat, grabbing at brother’s wrist for a pulse, feeling Ghoul’s chest rise and fall under his hands, finally assured Jet wasn’t lying to him and lapsing into numb silence. The car pulling up beside the van, the van’s side door sliding open. Dr. D shouting over the thunder. “They’re on our tail! We gotta move!”  
“Give her to us!” Jet hollered back. “They don’t know we made it out!”  
Show Pony bundling the shivering girl into Party’s lap, Party clutching her to his chest.  
“We’ll lead them off!”  
“Good luck!”  
And roaring into the glistening rain…

He would never forget that scream.

The footage was right there, across the room. Party debated silently if he should watch it the rest of the tape, get it over with and satisfy his morbid curiosity. Or avoid it til it drove him mad. Or destroy it before it could.

Dr. D was studying him.

Party’s hands flew up to his neck. His bandana had come loose. With shaking fingers he tugged it high up his throat again and knotted it tighter. But Dr. D had already seen.

“Someone should take a look at that, soldier,” Dr. D said.

“Don’t ‘soldier’ me,” Party shot back.

“Sorry, kiddo. Old habits.”

His anxious brother had insisted he examine it, the day after. Party refused at first. “My head’s not going to fall off, Kobra,” he had snapped. It worried him enough when Kobra didn’t automatically retort back something mean that he actually held still long enough for him to disinfect the wound before Party jerked away and covered it up again.

None of the others were shot point-blank. Party had tended the nasty-colored bruise on Kobra’s bony chest himself, but he’d had worse before from a non-stun. Party hadn’t seen his own in a mirror yet, but he could feel what it must look like, angry and red, the lightning-branch burns radiating from the throbbing welt under his chin.

Without really meaning to, Party started talking. “We’ve had some nasty claps before. This one…Wish she hadn’t had to see us in such bad shape, afterward. But having her around the bunker…it helped, I think.” He trailed off with an expression of mild concern as Show Pony slid into a highly improbable split. “He is going to die. Still, it was drivin’ me crazy being holed up in there, Dr. D.” He dragged a hand through his hair restlessly. The red dye was faded and half grown-out. “Too much time to think.”

He stopped, groping for words. Dr. D didn’t try fill the silence.

“We should’ve never made it out,” Party went on finally, half to himself. “We _knew_. Surviving after that…messes you up, somehow. Makes you wonder if what you thought was self-sacrifice was nothing more than a death wish.” The words were tumbling out of him now. “And I told the Witch, I _told_ her she could have me if she’d keep the Girl safe and I’m still here and it feels like breaking a promise, and I’ve always been running toward death and now I feel like it’s behind me and I can’t see it coming anymore, I _promised_ her and I…I don’t wanna live looking over my shoulder. I won’t.”

He studied his hands detachedly, like they were someone else’s. They were still shaking.

Dr. D took a swig of whiskey. “Know how you feel. Left death so far behind in the Helium Wars some days I think it forgot about me altogether.”

The joys outside were clapping and cheering. Show Pony took an exaggerated bow. A fly buzzed at one of the windows.

“It happened again today. Just like it did then. I just…froze.” Party gave a huff of bitter laughter. “When I ripped off that kid’s mask…” He stopped and tried again. “Looked Korse right in the face. Knew I was dead. Didn’t care.” He slammed the doorframe. “The Girl was still in danger, the guys – ”

Party slumped down on the step. His eyes glittering like broken glass through the tangled hair over his face. “They kept fighting. I…I gave up.”

He stared out at nothing in blank defeat, face impassive again.

He wondered if they were still dying. If it just took a while to catch up to you.

Dr. D sighed internally. He was supposed to say something now, wasn’t he. Everyone out here treated him like some kind of doggone shrink. “I don’t know if it was the Witch, fate, God or what watching over you lunatics that night but whatever it was, I’d take it as a second chance,” he told Party. “You proved they’re worth dying for. Now you get to show them they’re worth living for.”

Party didn’t snort derisively like he expected. Just gave him a tired look like, _is that all you've got?_

“Bit cliché, Dr. D,” he said.

“You ever wonder why we even bothered going to the rendezvous point?” Dr. D asked.

Party shook his head.

“We tried to tell her there was no point. But she,” Dr. D nodded in the Girl’s direction. “She was the one who insisted we wait for you.”

He went back to organizing his records.

Party stayed where he was. Dug absently at the dirt under his nails.

The bad guys lose, the good guys win, and nobody dies. It was idiotic. Crazy. One day – Witch and God and Destroya and everything else forbid – wouldn’t she have to learn that?

Out here, that kind of optimism would get you killed.

But the, the _light_ the Girl possessed wasn’t optimism, really. Cliché as it was, he had to admit it was more than that. It was something that just might have the ability to transcend death itself, when it came. Something like...

It struck Party suddenly what a terrible threat she was to BL/Ind.

The Girl was hopping on one skate now, clutching the other as she tried to get her leg behind her head. She slipped, sat down hard, and dissolved into helpless laughter.

It was fool’s hope, probably. But hope.

Maybe it would be enough.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are several little unfinished arcs hinted at here that I want to do follow-up stories on eventually to get some closure on the events of Sing for the rest of the four, but I decided to focus on Party for this one. Hopefully more to follow?


End file.
